


The Harrowing of Cullen Rutherford

by Ywain Penbrydd (penbrydd)



Series: A Comedy of Assholes (Rhapsody, etc.) [12]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Demons, Fade-walking, Gen, Harrowing, Mild Stabbing, it's not just for mages, test your templars before using in public-facing applications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9484754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penbrydd/pseuds/Ywain%20Penbrydd
Summary: The Harrowing is a test to ensure that mages can resist the lure of demons. But, who tests the templars, to ensure they're able to recognise and dispatch other things that return from the Fade? First Enchanter Irving has a solution to this problem that he's been using for almost twenty years, and he calls upon one of his most trusted students to help him and Commander Greagoir pass judgement on a new templar.





	1. Chapter 1

"Are you certain you want to do this?" First Enchanter Irving asked, giving a concerned look to the young mage on the other side of his desk. "You don't have to. We can get--"

"No offence, First Enchanter, but your options are me and Crazypants, and nobody in their right mind is going to have the least trouble stabbing the lunatic elf." Solona Amell shrugged, her thin, tight face offering a small smile. "No one else with the skills you need is young enough, or even looks young enough. I mean, Wynne? Torrin? It's me or him, and in any other thing, I'd say it's him. He wouldn't even notice. But, you want to make this difficult, so it has to be me."

"Or we could do what every other Circle in Thedas does and use an actual apprentice undergoing their actual Harrowing..." Greagoir drawled, from where he stood by a bookcase, determinedly refusing to take any of the available seats in the room.

"That's barbaric and I won't have it. I've never had it and I won't start now." Irving narrowed his eyes at Greagoir. "I won't have one of your recruits tested against one of my apprentices. Someone will get hurt, unnecessarily."

"Besides, I like this one." Solona laughed. "He's like a little kitten. On the other hand, I don't think he's going to make it. He's soft, Ser. And I'll bet you three eggs I can make him shit himself without resorting to magic."

"That would be a violation of policy," Greagoir muttered.

"What, the eggs or him shitting himself? Because I'm pretty sure neither of those is in the book." Solona shook her head and looked back at Irving. "You want me to walk in the Fade, like we practised, and pretend it's a Harrowing? I can do that."

"Can you do it without me? Can you do it without the support of the Enchanters you usually work with? I've already sent them on to Ostagar." Irving still looked concerned. He'd done this before -- he had to do it once or twice a decade, but the last time, he'd used Leorah, and Leorah was an Enchanter, now, and that wasn't going to work at all. Her promotion had been a fairly grand affair, as those sorts of things usually were. That face would be fresh in the recruit's mind. So, he'd come to Solona, and he hoped her showing would be enough to impress the Warden who had returned for mages to recruit into the order, as opposed to just fight the darkspawn in the south. He thought Solona would do well as a Warden, or maybe Alim.

Solona nodded. "I can do it." She took a deep breath and hoped she was right. The Fade, Irving had taught her, was never quite what you expected, but somehow everything you knew it would be.

"Tonight, then." Greagoir's voice rang out to call an end to the conversation. "He will come for you, tonight. Do not give away the test."

* * *

Solona was aware of the hand over her mouth and the gleam of armour in the low light of the dormitory. Without a second thought, she opened her mouth, sank her teeth in, and rocked back, driving her foot upward. The smite that followed woke half the room.

"I'm sorry," the young templar muttered, neck pinned to the bottom of the upper bunk. "Come quickly. First Enchanter Irving wants to see you upstairs."

"If Irving wants to see me he could've sent one of the Enchanters," Solona barked, batting the templar's hands away from her leg as she lowered it. "Go back to bed. It's nothing. I'll see you all at breakfast," she assured the room.

"They've mostly gone to Ostagar, already. And everyone else is in bed."

The templar tried to herd her toward the stairs, but Solona thought it wouldn't be hard to get past him. Too kind, and it would get him killed. "Yes, they're in bed, like normal, reasonable people, unlike yourself, and apparently the First Enchanter." She yawned, dramatically. "What's this all about, anyway, at this hour?"

"Not for me to tell you. The First Enchanter will explain." The templar patted Solona's arm in an almost friendly manner.

Good, he'd figured out not to mention the Harrowing to her, until she'd gotten to the chamber. Most right-minded apprentices would bolt at the thought, and they didn't even know what it entailed. "What could he possibly want at this hour that wouldn't wait for morning? It's not like there's anything he wouldn't do better to ask Sweeney or Torrin about, and I know they're still here." Solona stopped in the middle of the stairs, and the young templar bumped right into her back. Restraining a wicked grin, she widened her eyes and glanced over her shoulder. "Tell me the truth: they're not sending me to Cumberland, are they? They wouldn't..."

"What? No, that is... no. Nobody's sending you away. First Enchanter Irving just wants to talk to you." The templar nodded and patted Solona's back, encouragingly. "It's very important, but I got the impression it's something you'd appreciate. Can't tell you more. Wish I could."

Something she'd appreciate? That was a good one. She'd have to remember that. Although she supposed it _was_ something she'd appreciated, the first time. Mostly the part where it was over and she was safe. She reached for the door that would lead to the hall with Irving's office.

"He's not in his office," the templar corrected. "He's all the way up in the observatory."

"Really?" Solona tried to sound excited, as if this meant something. "Oh, what day is it? Is it the day Satina passes before the moon?"

"I... maybe?" The templar shrugged, looking confused. "Is that something he'd be waking you up for? I'm just supposed to bring you up to see him in the observatory."

Solona raced up the next set of stairs, noticing how easily she got ahead of the young templar. It was a good thing Anders was already Harrowed. He'd have eaten this kid alive. Probably broke his neck, stole the armour, and walked right out of the tower. It wouldn't be hard with how empty the stairs were, this late, and how heavy the doors were before the halls. No one would even hear it. She stopped suddenly, at the next landing, and the templar barrelled into her again.

"Sorry! Sorry... I didn't... Ah. It's the next floor." The templar pointed up.

"Oh, I just wasn't sure if you were supposed to go in first. I didn't want to get you in trouble!"

"Oh, ah, no. It's... it's fine. I don't need to announce you or anything. He's expecting you." Another awkward smile crossed the templar's face.

Thankfully, he'd figured out not to let her get behind him. It wasn't much, but she'd give credit where it was due. "What's your name, again?" she asked, flashing a blinding smile.

"Er, I'm Cullen." The templar rubbed the back of his neck, self-consciously, leaving his sword unguarded.

"You have the cutest cheeks, Ser Cullen." Solona giggled as best she was able. She'd been told the sound was utterly inhuman, and Kinnon had asked her to never make that noise again in his presence. Leofric claimed if he'd heard it during his Harrowing he'd never have passed.

Cullen looked like he'd been poleaxed, and Solona noted how easy it would be to shove him down the stairs. "That... that is... I... er..."

Much to Cullen's relief, Solona started up the stairs again. Her eyes, he noticed, never quite matched the rest of her face.

Finally, they reached the top of the stairs, the pinnacle of the ancient tower, and seat of the Harrowing chamber, which more often saw use as an astral observatory. Cullen pulled the door open, and Solona noted with some relief that he positioned himself in a way that would make it impossible for her to turn and run. Even if she tried to duck under his arm, he'd be able to use the door against her. One of the few safe decisions he'd made, thus far.

"You wanted to see me, First Enchanter?" Solona asked, with a wry smile, rolling her eyes about Cullen, who remained behind her, pulling the door solidly shut.

Greagoir replied, instead, making his way over to Solona, as he gave the speech he'd been giving to every apprentice since before Solona had ever manifested magic. Solona tuned it out and glanced at Irving, who nodded. Everyone present knew who she was and what was happening -- except Cullen. The last few Enchanters in the tower were spaced along the walls, where they would perform the ritual needed to get her where she was supposed to go, instead of just to some random point in the Fade. Closer in stood the templars, ready to dispatch her, should something else return.

Shit, Greagoir was asking her something. "Yes, Commander. I know the dangers."

From under the next window over from Torrin, Leofric made a grotesque face, only to slap his hand over his tongue as one of the templars looked over. Frick was going to give the whole thing away, if he didn't knock it off, Solona knew, but Cullen still watched her, nervously, from the door.

As Irving led her toward the basin of liquid lyrium, Solona whispered, "He's not going to make it. There's no steel in him."

"Scare him a little, when you come back," Irving suggested, patting her gently on the back.

"And then what?" Solona hissed.

"We'll take care of you," Irving promised, stepping away, and leaving Solona to take the last steps alone.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a nauseating disjoint that Solona had almost gotten used to in her Fade journeys -- the moment where she became formless and then re-took her own shape in another realm, and the sensations never aligned with the motion, in those brief passages. She could taste the bend of her knee, feel the strange orange of the trees, hear the whiff of lyrium and Antivan rose tea. And then, everything re-aligned. This was not where she had expected to be, but that made sense. It was a simulated Harrowing -- a controlled environment, compared to where she'd become used to walking.  
  
"You again?"  
  
The voice surprised her, and she turned around to find herself being addressed by a rodent. A rodent she suspected she knew. "Me again. We're playing a little game, today, so I get to come visit."  
  
"Is that why there's no hungry demon lurking just around the bend?" The mouse began to glow brightly, changing shape.  
  
"They didn't bother, this time. You're more than enough." Solona kicked dust at the creature, once it was tall enough not to take that in the face.  
  
"Me?" A young man with thin cheeks and a round belly stepped out of the blinding light, which faded behind him, changing his hair from a dull blond to an ashy red-blond. "Why, I'm just a hapless apprentice!"  
  
"Oh, don't pull that shit with me, Mouse. I know you." Solona jabbed a finger at him and then stretched. "Tell me you've got a deck of cards. I've got to spend half a candle in here, before I go scare the shit out of this recruit."  
  
"Recruit?" Mouse looked confused for a moment. "A templar? You're playing a prank on a templar? Why not just kill him? Or yourself, for all the good it'll do!"  
  
"Because the First Enchanter asked me to do it, and he promised that he and the Commander would protect me. It's a test for the poor boy, not that he's going to pass it." Solona shook her head and rolled her eyes.  
  
"You know, we could give him a real fright..." Mouse smiled ravenously.  
  
"I'm twice as terrifying as you are, and you know it, so stop thinking it." Solona looked around again, taking in the deformed Tevinter statuary and the bowl-bottomed trees with their long leaves. "Really, though, Wicked Grace? It's going to be a long hour and a half."  
  
"Shouldn't you be looking for a way back?"  
  
"There's no demon here. Well, except you."  
  
"I'm not a demon!" Mouse roared, crossing his arms in offence.  
  
"Save it for the apprentices." Solona laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "But, I don't have to find a way back, because the only thing keeping me here is me. My return isn't tied to defeating a demon." She looked him up and down. "Unless you want to wrestle. I could kick your ass and then leave. Might take me half a candle. Maybe."  
  
"But, what do I get when I win?" Mouse asked, a sly smile creeping across his lips.  
  
"A kiss." Solona grinned. "I'm still going home and leaving you here."  
  
Mouse huffed, turning his head to sniff at his own shoulder. "A kiss? Do I smell like a desire demon? Have I been spending so much time in her kingdom, lately, that I've started to smell of it?"  
  
"What's the matter, have I bruised your pride, suggesting you'd let lips touch you, or is this because I'm a mage?" Solona teased, voice holding the razor-sharp edge of too many years in the tower. Another reminder of what mages weren't supposed to have. Not that she wanted much of it, but she'd seen the suffering that came with that sort of relationship. "Or maybe you only like apprentices, hmm?"  
  
"I was once an apprentice, just like you were. I know where _kissing_ leads, and it's never anywhere good. Especially here." Mouse folded his arms across his chest, defensively, and studied Solona with a wary eye. "But, you're not an apprentice any more... maybe you know something I don't. You were always good at these ... puzzles. You're the smart one, here. Why is it you think you can just... put your lips on me, and not drag over every hungry desire demon from the next island?"  
  
"Because I don't _want_ you." Solona held up one finger, and then a second. "And because it's a Harrowing simulation, so there's no demons here but you." She held up a third finger. "Oh, and because I'm leaving, so it doesn't actually matter if they _do_ come."  
  
"Doesn't matter? Doesn't matter!? But, what about _me_!?" Mouse sputtered, cheeks glowing dimly instead of reddening.  
  
"You're a demon, Mouse. You're a big, bad demon. You can't really be afraid of the girls from next door." Solona laughed and reached up to pluck a soft, round fruit from the branch above her head.  
  
"Have you ever seen them kill someone? Because I have. And they've gotten me before. They get their hooks in and a little at a time, they nibble away your memories -- everything you ever wanted is gone -- and then they fill your head with trash and swallow you whole." Mouse looked over his shoulder like he thought they might actually come over the ridge, from somewhere in the vast, misty abyss off the island's edge. "Yes, all right, they're terrifying. You wouldn't really rile them up and leave me to them, would you? You're brave and strong, but I never took you for cruel..."  
  
"You knew me for about two hours." Solona grinned and took a bite of the fruit, which tasted like nothing in particular. "Did you really know me that well?"  
  
"Is that it, then? You're the one to test this templar's stomach, because you're the only one cruel enough to carry it out? That can't be. There must be other templars gnawing at their straps for the chance to inflict more sanctioned and sanctimonious torment." Mouse drew his shoulders up and sucked in a deep breath, eyeing Solona disdainfully. "And you shouldn't eat random things you find in here. They might be poison."  
  
"It's the Fade. Nothing's poison unless I say it is."  
  
"Nothing's poison unless the _dreamer_ says it is." Mouse raised an eyebrow and the matching corner of his mouth, in triumph. "That's not you. This place was created _for_ you. You're a guest."  
  
"And you're a pest," Solona shot back in her best impression of apprentice dorm discourse. "Do you know how many of the enchanters had to build this place? No one's going to be able to slip in a poison ..." She looked at the fruit in her hand. What the blight was that anyway? "... fruit... thing... without someone else noticing. And there's no benefit, anyway. I get killed here, and I _wake up_."  
  
"Maybe. You might wake up. I've heard stories, you know." Mouse shrugged ostentatiously. "The closer you are to being a Dreamer, with a capital 'd', the more likely you are to wake up Tranquil, if you die."  
  
"The only capital 'd' I see here is you." Solona rolled her eyes, but tossed away the fruit, just to be safe.  
  
"If that were true, I'd never have been rid of the desire demons," Mouse drawled. "And I still don't have a deck of cards, but if you'd like to bring me one, the next time you chance through my home, I'd appreciate it so much I might _let_ you kiss me. Or you could get me out of here. Getting me out of here would also probably help me find a deck of cards, or really, anything to do other than hiding in a hole and praying I'll be overlooked again."  
  
"Getting you out of here would be a direct introduction to templar steel," Solona reminded him, looking around. "Lawn bowling it is, then. How's your arm?"  
  
" _Lawn bowling_? Where would you even pick up the habit? Are they letting the lot of you outside again? And if they are, _what are you still doing here_?"   
  
"Andraste's ass aflame, no. They haven't let us out since that time Anders threw himself in the lake. Poor stupid bastard made it all the way to town, before they caught up with him. Two whole weeks, if you can believe it." Solona laughed at the memory of Anders getting dragged through the tower, out of his head with magebane, singing at the top of his lungs. "We used to bowl in the aisle of the dormitory."  
  
"And they killed him, didn't they? And you're laughing!" Mouse looked utterly offended at the idea.  
  
"Of course they didn't kill him," Solona scoffed, digging through a pile of stones for the roundest ones. "It's Anders. He's might as well be the First Enchanter's cat. It doesn't matter how many carpets he pees on or whose books he leaves hairballs on, no one's actually going to do him lasting harm. Irving would have their heads."  
  
"Anders, you say? I... I don't remember him. Pity. I think we'd have gotten on quite nicely. Maybe he'd have gotten me out of here, unlike some other people I could name." Mouse glared, with no real intent.  
  
Solona picked another fruit and handed it to Mouse. "He's a stupid bastard, but he's not that stupid. Now toss the jack."  
  
"I still don't want a kiss," Mouse muttered, lobbing the fruit, underhand, down the path.  
  
"Why in the whole of Thedas do you think _you're_ going to win?" Solona laughed, again, rolling a stone over the uneven dirt toward the fruit.


	3. Chapter 3

Cullen waited, impatiently, trying to keep himself still, once he realised that every time he shifted his weight, the scrape of metal on metal echoed through the observatory. Solona-- the girl-- the _mage_ hadn't moved in quite some time, and he knew that this could take a whole candle, before he'd be called upon to strike her down as a failure. But, he knew her... sort of. He'd seen her around, and he'd always thought she was made of stronger stuff. This wouldn't be a long one. He ... probably wouldn't have to kill her. But, if he did...  
  
He readied himself, checking the grip on his sword, rolling his shoulders and ignoring the sharp looks from the few enchanters he could see. Or had they looked at all? Not one of them had moved since the apprentice was put under. How they kept their arms up for so long was a mystery. Probably magic. And the thrum of magic in the observatory made his skin crawl, like it was trying to suck the lyrium out of his blood straight through his pores. What if that was a sign? What if that meant it was a demon? What if it was a demon? What if it was actually a real honest demon--  
  
And then all his thoughts stopped as the mage's eyes opened, slowly, and blue sparks danced along her body. Her smile was uncanny and deeply wrong.  
  
"Tell-- Tell us your name!" Cullen demanded, readying his sword to strike.  
  
"You know me, Ser Cullen!" The mage's smile didn't waver in the least and her eyes stayed locked on him, as she sat up. "I'm Solona Amell, same as I was when I laid down."  
  
"Prove it!" Cullen demanded, having no idea what would pass as truly being herself.  
  
"Something only you and I would know? I almost broke your neck with my foot, earlier." Solona shrugged, something still wrong with the way she moved, but it at least reminded him of other apprentices who'd passed, some sort of disconnect between the desire to move and the actual motion.  
  
Greagoir's face was firm, his eyes following every move Cullen made, and Cullen could feel the sweat running down inside his armour.  
  
"No, a demon would know that."  
  
The smite landed and Solona staggered with the suddenness of it, but Cullen brought his sword to bear, lunging toward her. The sword clipped her arm, as she dropped to her knees, sobbing without tears, a flash of anger crossing her face as the slice registered.  
  
"Get Wynne!" Enchanter Leofric shouted from the edge of the room, where Torrin held him back. "Someone get Wynne!"  
  
Cullen kept the blade aimed at the mage at his feet. He'd taken her magic and threatened her life, and she hadn't changed. That was a sign, wasn't it? "This is not an abomination," he declared, lifting his eyes from Solona to look at the Knight-Commander.  
  
"Why do you think that?" Greagoir asked, his own sword in his hands as it had been the entire time.  
  
"A mage who is threatened fights with magic. A mage with a demon but no magic will release the demon in a panic, if threatened. She is panicked. I see no change." Cullen struggled to stop the shivers that seized him. What if he was wrong?  
  
"Leofric, go get Anders. I've already sent Wynne on to Ostagar," the First Enchanter ordered, quietly, gesturing toward the door.  
  
"Well done, Ser Cullen." Greagoir sheathed his sword and stepped up to pat Cullen's shoulder, nearly fatherly. "But, in the future, threaten the mage, don't stab them. Work on your aim."  
  
As Cullen wiped the blood off his sword and re-sheathed it, Irving approached, asking, "Are you all right, Solona?"  
  
"I'm not sorry I kicked you in the neck, just so you know," she growled at Cullen, clutching the torn sleeve of her robe over the gash in her arm. "I'd have kicked you harder, if I knew you were going to stab me."  
  
"And that is why we don't use an actual apprentice for this test, Commander." Irving raised his eyebrows pointedly at Greagoir.  
  
Cullen looked back and forth between the two men. "...What?"  
  
"She was never the subject of the test, Cullen. It was you." Greagoir's hand clanked against Cullen's shoulder again.  
  
"They had to be sure you weren't going to piss down your leg, if an actual apprentice actually got possessed," Solona muttered, still bleeding. "This had better rinse out or you're getting me new robes."  
  
From outside the door, another voice could be heard. "Frick, I swear to the Maker, if you're fucking with me, I'm going to throw you down every last one of these stairs and kick you at the bottom."  
  
"Ah, Anders, come in! Solona needs some assistance!" Irving raised his voice, but the room carried it well.  
  
"No." Anders stood stubbornly in the doorway, as Leofric tried to push him into the room. "I've already been Harrowed, and there's nothing in Thedas that will get me back into that room. If that's her, she can come to me. It doesn't look like she's going to bleed out on her way across the room. I'll be out here, on the landing."  
  
"I'm gonna shove my foot so far up your ass you'll be spitting my toenails!" Solona barked, shoving past Cullen to get to Anders, one hand still firmly clamped over the gash in her arm, as she dribbled blood across the floor.  
  
"You'll have to get Frick's foot out of the way, first," Anders teased, hands still clutching the door frame.  
  
Cullen watched it all, in horror. "You... you were testing me? You let me stab an innocent mage?"  
  
"I know you think she's pretty," Greagoir admitted quietly. "We had to be sure it wasn't going to interfere with your duty."  
  
"Nothing would interfere with my duty except my death." Astonishment and disgust warred on Cullen's face. "You... you actually doubted me. You really didn't think I could do it -- didn't think I would do it. And you made her pretend, to see if I'd be able to hurt her. I hope you're happy."  
  
"I am," Greagoir assured him. "You've proven yourself a just and courageous defender of the sanctity of our world. I have no doubt that if you genuinely believed her a demon, you would have struck her down where she stood. Still, work on your aim."  
  
"My aim is perfect," Cullen argued, still watching Solona argue with the healer. "Do you think she's really all right?"  
  
"People who aren't all right don't usually threaten the healer," Irving pointed out. "On the other hand, it's Anders."  
  
"Stay away from Anders," Greagoir warned, his jaw squaring. "You should have sent that boy to Aeonar a decade ago, First Enchanter."  
  
"He is wilful and difficult, but he has no taste for blood," Irving retorted, with a pointed glance at Cullen. "But, this is no time to rehash an old argument. Congratulations, Ser Cullen. I can only hope your courage holds in the face of actual demons. Still, it's been almost twenty years, hasn't it, Commander? A man can go an entire lifetime without meeting the real thing."  
  
"In _this_ tower?" Greagoir scoffed. "Don't leave your sword out of arm's reach."  
  
Cullen's eyes remained on Solona, watching her nearly-silent motions and listening to the healer's laugh. Was she an enchanter? Had they hidden her so well as that? But, his thoughts were cut off as she turned back to him, one hand nudging the healer down the stairs.  
  
"Hey, Colic!"  
  
"It's _Cullen_ ," he sighed.  
  
"Close enough. Good job, except for the stabbing part." Solona laughed. "Don't forget, I owe you one."  
  
"You already kicked me in the neck!" Cullen argued, red spots flaring on his cheeks.  
  
"Not nearly hard enough, obviously." Solona vanished down the stairs behind the healer, and only Enchanter Leofric remained.  
  
"I think she likes you," Leofric offered, in a stage whisper, grinning slyly at Cullen, as a tiny flash of lightning caught him in the ankle, redirecting his attention. "Solona!" he yelped, the stairs echoing with his protest, as he raced down the stairs after her.  
  
"She seems like a nice girl," Cullen said to no one in particular. "I'm glad I didn't have to kill her."  
  
"You may, yet," Greagoir reminded him, with a weary look. "Your faith in the Chantry and the Order, and in no other thing."


End file.
